


A Walk In the Park

by coplins



Series: Packrunners [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Bickering, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins/pseuds/coplins
Summary: When Dean leaves work for the day, Michael's waiting for him outside.





	A Walk In the Park

**Author's Note:**

> I got a comment I'd like to respond to for all of y'all.   
> " _I think one of the things I love about this story is that it doesn’t automatically make progressives right._ "   
> Definitely not. However, we get to see things through only Primal's pov and Dean especially is a bit of an extremist in his views of Progressives. What we see is a lot of cultural collisions. So while at times it may seem like Progs are wrong or out of line or rude, they're not. They belong to the same morphologic family but are in the process of diverging into different species that are still inter-breedable with their Primal peers, only their understanding of each other lessens with each generation. All of the factions strive for all their people to live well and be happy. :)

* * *

Michael is waiting outside when Dean comes out of the building. He flares, and teeths his smile. “Dean! I trust everything went well?”

Dean snorts derisively. “You must be a special kind of asshole to file a complaint about your own _brother_. And you're not expecting me to call you Sir, now are you? I'm off the clock.” Dean's nervous. Dick Roman had been very persuasive. Still, unless he tries it out, he'll never know how bitchy he can be without risking his job.

Michael's smile gets wider, his teeth even pointier. “Not unless it's a kink thing for you.”

“The hell it is. Anybody calling anybody Sir outside of work, it'll be coming out of your mouth.”

Michael’s brilliant blue flare gets stronger as he narrows his eyes. The smile never falters but he’s _not_ happy about that suggestion. He’s on top of the food chain and he’s very aware of it. “We’ll see about that,” he answers a little tightly.

“Yeah… or not,” Dean lies with a dismissive hand gesture and starts walking, passing Michael by and withholds the urge to suck in a deep breath when he passes because the fucker smells _so fucking good_. He hears that Michael doesn’t withhold that urge, inhaling deeply through his nose then follows Dean, deep-purring with a voice that nearly sends shivers down Dean’s back. The good kind of shivers. Dean stops and turns around. “What were you doing here, by the way? You weren’t waiting for me, were you?”

“As a matter of fact, I was. It’s a nice day. I was hoping you’d join me for some ice cream and a walk in the park. To get to know each other a bit better.”

Dean steps closer and Michael starts up his deep-purr again and it _isn’t fucking fair_ since Dean’s in preheat, probably going into heat tomorrow at the latest. He knows his scent is screaming _YES_ which makes saying no a helluva lot harder. The discretion Michael used a couple of days ago is gone and he’s delightfully Primal in his behaviour. Still polite, unlike Lucifer had been. “And you think I’m gonna be positively inclined towards you after what you just did?” Dean asks, choosing Dick’s words. He flares and gets all up in Michael’s face challengingly.

Michael lowers his voice but doesn’t back down. “What I just did, was make sure you know that you can turn us down without fear of losing your job, so we can have an honest conversation like this.”

“Right, right. Of course. That’s what you did,” Dean says with a fake smile and narrowed eyes. “Superficially, that’s exactly what it seems like. Sure. Absolutely.”

“Superficially?”

“Uh-huh. If one looks deeper, it no longer looks so chivalrous, pal.”

Michael frowns. “What? Why?”

Dean turns on his heel and starts walking. “You file a complaint against your brother to rid yourself of your competition―”

Michael follows him and chuckles. “Luci isn’t competition.”

Dean stops again looks over his shoulder and smirks. “Oh, no, he definitely is. He might be an ass, but he’s competition alright.” He starts walking again. “Then you have every one of my sexual encounters, or just flirtations, mapped out and investigated. Fuck, you even found _Alfie_! And that was from the first month I was working here. I’d say that’s fifty shades of possessive psycho.”

“What? That’s not―!” Michael sputters. “Dean. Roman’s the one doing the investigation. It’s all confidential and the only parts you, or I, am allowed to be told about are the parts we were present for, unless we ourselves tell anyone. I have no idea what Dick found out. Unless a policy was breached he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Hah! So you’re telling me that you can’t just walk into his office, open my file, and read as you please with no one trying to stop you?”

“Technically, yes. But I wouldn’t do that. We try to be respectful and treat our employees as if they have rights.” There are no laws to protect employees from being screwed over by their employers. Dean knows that. Or, there are, but those concerned things like lethal hazards, payment, and so on. Privacy in the workplace? Nu-uh.

“I'm a hedonistic fucker, Michael. If you’re planning to block anyone you think might pose a threat you’ll have your hands full and piss me off at the same time. And if it gets back to me that you’ve tried to scare someone off whose interest I welcome, I _will_ file a complaint. Just saying. Dick said I should do that if you breach policy.” Dean can smell anger coming from the Alpha walking behind him. Dean’s unsure if it’s because he’s being insubordinate or if it’s because Michael feels unjustly accused. It really doesn’t matter. As scared as Dean had been from when he came to work at 5 o’clock, to 10 o’clock when he came to HR, he thinks Michael deserves a little shin-kicking.

“You’ve done your own share of policy breaking today,” Michael counters defensively.

“Oh yeah? _How?_ ” Dean already knows what Michael’s about to say.

“You had sex with him. You let Dick fuck you _at work_ ,” Michael accuses.

Dean sniggers. “I deny doing any such thing.”

“Don’t play games with me. I could smell it on him when he came to my office to report after his meeting with you. Shit, but he almost smelled bonded, for crying out loud.”

Dean grins to himself. They’re walking at a brisk pace down the sidewalk and whatever their jumbled scents tell people, it makes people get out of the way. “Yeah? That proves nothing other than that I gave him a thorough marking up. To help him battle depression.”

“Dick’s not depressed. He was born scentless! It’s not the same.”

Dean sniggers. “Now he sure ain't. And FYI, even if I had sex with him I didn’t break any policies.”

“Yes, you did. It clearly states that sex in the workplace is prohibited.”

“No, it doesn’t. I know, because I’ve read the policies. _Pause_ for shocked gasp when the big dog realises the _lowly_ janitor isn’t illiterate.” It’s funny because Dean caught the surprised intake of breath when Dean says he’s read it, and he hears the gnashing of teeth when he calls Michael out for it. “First of all, to quote my closest boss Rufus Turner, ‘When HR calls, going to them _is_ your job. Whatever they want from you, you do.’ Second of all, if I slept with Dick, what makes you think I’d let _him_ fuck _me_? Most importantly, paragraph 184 B) states that _knotting_ is strictly prohibited in the workplace. Here’s a math equation for ya. Two Omegas walk into an empty room. How many knots are there in there?” He turns his head with a superior smirk to raise an eyebrow at Michael to see him looking furious, fangs partway dropped and blue eyes glowing so strongly they shed light even in daylight.

“You’re way out of line, Dean. You―”

Dean drops full fangs, showing off how quickly he can morph, and turns on his heel with a fierce scowl to slam into Michael chest to chest so their noses are nearly pressed together. “ _You_ fucking siphoned me behind my back, you sonnova bitch,” he growls lowly.

Michael’s eyes widen. He turns pale, flare dying, then blushes crimson, turning his head away licking his lips in placating submission. The smell of anger is traded for distress. Good. The sexy fucker knows he did wrong. Dean’s really glad Dick shared that little tidbit of information. Gotta give it to the scentless Omega, but he’s thorough with whatever he does. And since Dean was present when this took place, Dick had no qualms about telling him. Siphoning is really fucking intimate and he had barely believed Dick when he told Dean. Michael’s confirming it beyond any doubt right now.

Dean turns around and starts walking again. Michael isn’t following. Dean lets him stand there for a bit before he turns around and calls “Are you gonna stand there all day? The park’s that way and that ice cream won’t buy itself, you know?” He winks cheekily when Michael looks up with a delightfully surprised expression.

Michael blinks a couple of times then a giddy laughter bubbles up from inside of him. He jogs up to Dean and when Dean starts walking again they walk side by side. “Wow. You’re a wild ride, aren’t you,” he states with a grin.

Dean sniggers. “You think you can keep up?” he teases playfully.

“I’d sure like to try,” Michael answers with a wry grin and gives Dean a one-eyed flare wink. He smells happy. Dean purrs.

* * *

“So you’re born here, huh?” Dean asks as they’re sitting on a bench in the park soaking up sunlight and licking their ice creams. Michael’s got an arm on the backrest of the bench behind him and Dean leans back and soaks up the Alpha’s contentment when he does.

“Yes. Well. I was born on Long Island. We’ve got a family estate in the Hamptons, but after they bombed Hempstead it was no longer safe to pass through to go to work, so we moved to a gated community by the Hudson.”

“Yeah, going through the slums when you’re a pedigree pal can’t be very safe, huh?”

Michael chuckles. “I’d say it isn’t safe for anybody.”

“I dunno. I never had any problem with it. It’s no hoot, I’ll give you that. But tell me something, since you’re a local. People are dying of hunger by the dozens. I’ve seen the pyre outside the city and it never dies. Walking around here you have to step over beggars and in the slums, you step over corpses. But why? I get that the city’s resources can’t provide for millions, but just look right in front of us. Those mushrooms are delicious and they grow in every park in the city. Yet starving people pass them right by.”

“You mean Dead Gut? They’re poisonous,” Michael says in bemusement.

“Well, yeah. If you eat them raw. You just have to boil them, pour the water away, rinse them, then repeat four to six times and then they’re great food. When I just came here, before I got a job, I often went to the bombed-out parts of town to forage. Mushrooms, nettles, berries… there are all kinds of edibles around. And that’s not even counting the pigeons, rats, and gulls. I haven’t had to starve a single day since I got here. I mean, there has gotta be more people than me who knows how to prepare what grows wild in the slums.”

Michael licks his ice cream with a thoughtful look on his face, regarding the cluster of Dead Guts (Dean knows them as Scrunch Hats) growing in the grass in front of them. “You’re from the country, right?” Dean nods. “I think, maybe… You don’t live in the slums, do you?”

“Hell no. I wouldn’t even if you paid me to.”

“I think that’s the answer. To most of us city-bred folks, we smell the poison and keep away. Those that come here from the country who know how to forage and turn inedibles into food, they don’t set up shop in the slums to teach. They move up in the world.”

Dean makes a sturgeon face. It’s true. It’s a dog eat dog world and you can’t take pity on everyone or you’ll end up dead or sick like them. Dad had been an avid teacher of how to be picky on who you took pity on. He’d confessed he would have taken Cas in even if Dean hadn’t basically claimed the sick but cocky teenager right away. It’s the fighting spirit. Like Dean had taken a shine to Alfie who aimed far above his level by courting Dean. You can’t save everybody. Maybe someday in the future, but not yet. “Fair point.” They’re quiet for a bit, eating their ice creams, watching people and enjoying the scent of each other. Then Dean tilts his head up and scents the air. “Okay, another question. The guy over there. He with the green jacket. What’s wrong with him? I can smell something off with him but I don’t recognise it,” he says and points.

Michael looks in the direction of the man walking through the park with his shoulders hunched and head bent, casting nervous glances around himself. People either give him a wide berth or growl warnings at him if he gets too close. Dean’s learned by watching others that whatever is wrong with people like this man, it’s something bad and should be avoided at all cost or driven away from the area. He just doesn’t know why because it’s something he hadn’t encountered until he came to the city.

Michael scents the air, then flares and drops fangs, his arm coming around to hold Dean’s shoulder protectively. When the man nears Michael’s face scrunches into a real scowl, growl turning open-mouthed, promising murder. Dean follows suit. The man spots them, squeaks and takes off running in the opposite direction. Further down in the park two people take up pursuit and they all disappear out of sight. 

Michael lets his fangs recede and his flare dies. “That guy has an STD,” he explains and relaxes.

“A what?”

“A sexually transmittable disease.”

“There are diseases that spread through sex?” Dean asks, stunned.

“Yes,” Michael answers with a wry twist to his lips. “It’s those damned Progressives fault with their widespread noseblindness. In closed communities of theirs, that sort of disease can spread pretty unhindered. It can be cured if you can afford to go to a hospital like most can’t. And unless you manage to break into a closed Prog community, you won’t live long. You’ll be hunted down and killed. That shit is a threat to our whole way of living since it can’t be detected at its first stage.”

“No shit. …Noseblindness is common amongst Progs? It isn’t in Kansas where I’m from.”

“If they’ve kept themselves to other Progs for generations they start bearing noseblind and earblind kits. Rarely eyeblind, though.”

“Huh. Cool. My lil bro is interested in stuff like that. I figured I’d send him to college one day.”

“Oh yeah? You should talk to Dick Roman about that. He might tell you how to do that without funding. He was born in the worst part of the slums and got into college without even having gone to school. Just taught himself to read.”

“Really? I’ll do that then. Thanks.”

“I said _talk_ , not bang, mind you,” Michael jokes.

Dean chuckles. “You’re jealous. Duly noted. He really didn’t tell you about my other liaisons?”

“Nope.” Michael narrows his eyes slyly and smirks lopsidedly at Dean. “The only piece of interesting information he gave me was that you tricked us into hiring you.”

_Fuck._ That hadn't come up during his meeting with Dick. But he's not surprised that the guy figured it out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Like Dick didn’t when they questioned how he got into college,” Michael says with amusement, not buying it.

“I swear. I heard there was a job opening, and went to an interview with some guy named Steve. He hired me, but when I came to sign the paperwork there had been some mixup.”

“Uh-huh. Steve, huh?” Michael says with sceptical amusement. He smells happy and content.

“Yeah. Don’t remember his last name though.”

“Might it have been Steve Allen who moved to LA just a week after you started? Or perhaps Steve Larsen, who died of old age about a month after you started?” Michael purrs with a teasing grin.

Dean snaps his fingers and points at him. “You know what? I think that’s it. Larsen does sound familiar.”

Michael throws his head back laughing. “Gods, you really are a thrill ride. The guts on you,” he marvels affectionately when he looks back at Dean.

“So are you gonna give me the boot for these wildly false allegations?”

“No. You do your job well and are generally well liked, plus me and my brothers are trying to woo you. Taking away your livelihood wouldn’t exactly do the trick, now would it?”

“I like the way you think,” Dean jokes, relaxing.

Michael grins at him. “I bet you do. Although, Dick also said he thought you were wasted as a janitor. He recommended sales or acquisitions. We’ll see about that. I thought he was just doing you a favour because you slept with him, but now I know you can read?” He shrugs. “Do you know how to use a computer?”

“Never tried. But if I have to? Give me a week and I will.”

“I’m taking you up on that. And would you be willing to take a couple of tests at HR to see what you can do so we can place you in a position where your talents aren’t squandered?”

“Of course I am. But you _do_ know I’m not on this date with you to get ahead, right? I’m here because you and your brothers smell fucking divine and it’s driving me crazy.”

“I know,” Michael says, cheeks blushing, belying the cocky smirk on his face. “But Dick said that left to your own devices you’d be working on the top shelf within a decade even without getting a leg up. And from what I’ve seen of you this far, I believe he’s right. Nothing wrong with helping nature on its way, now is there?” He winks. A normal wink this time, not the cool one-eyed flare thing he does.

“I can get behind that.”

“Good.”

Another moment of content quiet descends as they finish their ice creams. Michael’s arm around his shoulder is warm and comfortable, his scent heady enough to cause butterflies. Dean rumbles his steady, low-frequency ‘all is well’ usually reserved for Sam and when they’re at home. Michael smiles broadly and looks at the sky and Dean tips his head to rub his temple against the side of Michael’s neck once, and the note of happiness in Michael’s scent intensifies. Somewhere far away, beyond the park, somebody responds with the Alpha version of the ‘all is well’. It reminds Dean of how dad would go out in the yard to sound a question to Bobby, and Bobby would respond from the garage several miles away with his low rumble. Their house wasn’t fit to house someone in a wheelchair, and the living quarters at the garage wasn’t fit to house the whole pack or raise a family in. But living separated didn’t make Bobby less of a pack member.

Dad had told Dean about the time before the war had decimated their respective packs. How if anyone went out to sound a question you could hear the answer come like a chain reaction, and if someone sent out a distress call you went there to help defend them even if they belonged to another local pack or unaffiliated Primal. Dean wishes that was still the reality. 

“Now that’s just indecent,” Dean remarks and nods to a bench further away where a Progressive couple are kissing heatedly and have been for the last ten minutes or so. “They complain about us flaring or knotting in public, but _that_ is ten times more indecent.”

“You ever kissed outside of sex or siphoning?” Michael asks.

“Nope.”

“Would you like to?” Michael asks and raises an eyebrow suggestively with a lopsided smirk.

Dean chuckles in bemusement. “You know what? Yes.” He twists his body to hook a hand behind Michael’s neck and pulls him in. Lips meet and part, then the weird sensation of tongue against tongue. Sticky slick and… it’s just weird. Kissing outside of sex. Except it’s… it’s good. Yeah. Dean kinda likes it. And Michael tastes as good as he smells. Just like kissing Sam it gets better the longer they’re at it, less foreign. Michael’s arousal teases Dean’s nostrils, making him slick. Michael’s hand caresses his midriff, thumb stroking softly back and forth. Dean breaks the kiss. “This is definitely not your first time.”

“No. Dated a Prog for a while. It’s not doable in the long run, but some things I learned to like.”

Dean pulls him back in, nips at his lower lip and licks his way back into Michael’s mouth. He closes his eyes, gives in to the warmth pressing behind his eyelids and flares, lets his fangs elongate at a glacial pace, so slowly it barely even hurts. Michael’s tongue slides over the sharp point of one of his canines. It makes Michael gasp and the smell of his arousal turn denser. He breaks the kiss panting and Dean opens his eyes to find Michael staring at him, blue eyes glowing intently. Michael teeths slightly, every tooth turning pointy. Dean purrs in satisfaction which makes Michael jerk him back in to kiss again. Hungrier, harsher. Dean can’t get enough of the feel of his tongue running over the sharp reminders of their predatory heritage, judging by Michael’s reaction it’s the same for him. Michael’s fangs drop a quarter just like Dean’s. Dean pushes his tongue against the tip of one until he tastes blood. He shifts, slides up to straddle Michael without breaking the feral kiss. Rubs himself against Michael’s crotch to feel his erection. Michael’s hands have his hips in a firm grip, guiding him to rub harder. He cradles Michael’s neck, hands coming away oil-slick from the now freely flowing liquid from the glands behind his ears. He breaks the kiss gasping. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“You don’t want to kiss anymore?” Michael asks bewildered.

“I don’t want to kiss outside of sex,” Dean clarifies and runs his hands through his hair and on his neck to get Michael’s scent firmly on himself. Then he bends down to lick into Michael’s mouth again. He feels Michael’s hands quest in his ass crack, searching for something that isn’t there. Dean breaks the kiss again. “Sorry, buddy. These ain’t Omega pants. For someone my size they need to be custom made and I refuse to use the poor man’s version. Getting your balls stuck in a zipper is a once-and-never-again sort of experience.” The poor man’s version you just cut your pants up and insert a zipper, instead of those finely crafted Omega pants that are specifically tailored for easy access and comfort, with a special lining that soaks up slick and keeps you dry-ish even at your worst arousal. Dean’s only had one pair when he was just presented and hadn’t outgrown his mom’s pants yet.

Michael lets out a pained laughter. “We’ll have to fix that. Because I really want to have you face to face.”

“You’re a weird fucker, you know that?”

Michael shakes his head with a soft, suffering smile, canines peeking out from under his closed lips. “You’re so gorgeous, Dean, not even your scent does you justice.”

Dean makes a short trilling noise, cheeks heating up and the tip of his tongue resting against his sharp teeth when he smiles. He’s pretty sure what he’s feeling right now is himself falling in love with the person, like he’s been crushing on the scent for so long…

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I should mention the whole STD thing, and why it isn't a thing here despite sex, public or otherwise, is such a bit part of their society. The can smell it on people. It's that simple. I mean, if our society worked like theirs, and sitting on a dick helped relieve severe period cramps for an instance, and you and others would have no qualms about sitting on a stranger's dick on your commute to work, it would be pretty damning if STDs was something widespread and common. So now we have that out of the way. ;)
> 
> As for the question if Dean did have sex with Dick or just marked him up? Nobody knows. It's a mystery... ;)
> 
> Please keep commenting! Reading your reactions makes my day! :D


End file.
